The rain stopped at exactly midnight.
Not slowly, not in a drizzle — one moment it was falling, and the next, it was gone.
Every droplet hung midair, frozen like glass beads suspended in invisible strings. Then, as one, they shattered into silver dust that burned on contact with the ground.
Hae-won felt it first — the shift.
That sickening stillness that always preceded the System's declaration.
His chains lifted, twitching, reacting like nerves to an approaching current.
[ Scenario Synchronization Complete. ]
[ Cycle 505 — Main Scenario: "THE HARVESTER'S TRIAL." ]
[ Objective: Restore equilibrium by culling imbalance. ]
[ Special Rule: Death feeds progress. Mercy drains time. ]
[ Time Limit: 72 hours. ]
The sky cracked open like an eggshell.
A black sun pulsed over the city, sending waves of distortion through Seoul's skyline — glass towers twisted into spines, streets melted into rivers of ink.
And far above it all, the Tower fragments that Hae-won had rewritten began to stitch themselves back together, forming a vertical shadow over the horizon.
"Seoul's being overwritten again," Ji-won muttered, staring upward. "It's merging back with the fragments—"
"No," Hae-won said, his tone cold, deliberate. "It's adapting. It's evolving past what I rewrote."
The System's voice cut through his words like a scalpel:
[ Harvester of Death — Initialization Commencing. ]
[ Modifier Active: All life-signs in your radius will be measured. Survival ratios recalibrated. ]
[ Subroutine Access Granted: Chains of Judgement — Level 1 Unlocked. ]
His breath caught as the world warped.
Every living being within a kilometer — from the players gathered at the plaza to the civilians in the illusionary streets — flickered with faint threads of red light connecting them to him.
Thousands. Tens of thousands. Each one pulsed in sync with his heartbeat.
Arin's hand shot out, gripping his wrist. "Hae-won—stop! The System's trying to—"
"I'm not doing anything!" he snapped. "It's binding them to me!"
The chains coiled up his arms, reacting to the sudden surge of command.
They shimmered — crimson, white, and black intertwining like braided serpents — and then pierced into the ground, sending shockwaves through the ruins.
Do-hyun swore under his breath. "If that's what it looks like when you're not doing anything, I don't wanna see what happens when you try."
Before Hae-won could respond, the next part of the announcement came:
[ Designated Opponent: "The Saintess of the Abyss" — Manifested. ]
[ Objective: Harvest or Be Harvested. ]
The air split open.
A fissure of light carved through the ruins of Gangnam, and from it stepped the Saintess — the same woman Hae-won had met deep within the Tower's hell floors. Her robes were black now, laced with golden script, her eyes no longer human but mirrors reflecting every death he'd ever caused.
She smiled, faintly, almost sadly.
"So this is your Seoul. Fitting… that we'd meet again in your illusion."
Arin tensed. "Who is she?"
Hae-won didn't answer immediately. His eyes were locked on the Saintess, unreadable.
"She was supposed to purify hell," he said finally. "I guess now she's here to purify me."
[ Warning: Primary Threat Identified. Power Ratio 1:1. Adaptation imminent. ]
The ground trembled.
Buildings tilted, rivers of molten code flowed upward into the sky. Every thread of red connecting Hae-won to the living began to tighten, their heartbeats syncing with his.
Ji-won cursed. "System's pushing synchronization. It's gonna fry everyone—"
"Not if I control it first," Hae-won muttered. His pupils dilated, faint chain-marks forming beneath his skin. "Chains of Judgement—initiate manual override."
The air screamed.
Every thread of light twisted toward him, converging, then exploding outward as two massive chains formed from pure will — the Chains of Heaven and Chains of Hell.
Their collision tore the sky apart, painting it half white, half red.
Hae-won exhaled through clenched teeth.
"I said I wouldn't be their protagonist again—"
He cracked his neck once.
"Guess I lied."
The first chain lashed forward. The duel between the Harvester and the Saintess began.
The city exploded.
No warning — just a shockwave that threw every player off their feet.
Windows burst. Pavement cracked. The skyscrapers, half-repaired by Hae-won's rewrite, now split apart again as though the Tower itself was rejecting Seoul's existence.
The Saintess moved first.
Her halo flared open — seven concentric rings of golden light — and the air bent around her fists.
No prayers, no chants, no divine arrogance.
Just motion.
Her heel hit the ground, and the world blurred.
Hae-won barely tilted his head before her strike tore through where it had been.
The shockwave shredded the building behind him.
He didn't counter immediately.
He watched.
Every movement, every flicker of her divine light — measured, mapped, memorized.
Then he moved.
Chains split from his back, snapping through the air like lightning, carving through the golden aura around her.
The first chain, Heaven, screamed as it struck — pure white flame against sacred light.
The second, Hell, followed half a breath later, black and red coiling together, tearing through divine resistance like it was silk.
The Saintess caught them both with her bare hands.
She didn't flinch. Didn't bleed.
Her lips curved slightly. "Still using borrowed weapons, Harvester?"
"Then I'll make them my own," Hae-won growled.
He snapped his fingers.
The chains split into dozens — serpentine fragments that curved midair, forming sigils around her. The air warped.
Each sigil pulsed once, twice—
BOOM.
The explosion lit the skyline.
Flames painted the glass towers orange as fragments of light scattered like shrapnel. The Saintess vanished into the impact.
Hae-won didn't wait to confirm the kill.
He lunged through the smoke, fists raised.
This time, he didn't summon his chains — he used himself.
His knuckles slammed into her guard, sparks flying from the collision.
Another strike.
Then another.
The ground beneath them cracked, and for a heartbeat, the two of them were nothing but silhouettes moving faster than the eye could track — each clash a thunderclap, each exchange a miniature apocalypse.
Do-hyun, watching from the plaza below, muttered, "He's moving like the chains themselves. That speed—"
"Mach one," Arin said faintly. Her eyes didn't blink. "He's forcing his body to keep up with his chains. It's… killing him."
Above, Hae-won landed a clean hit.
His fist sank into her ribs, divine blood splattering against the broken street.
She staggered, then smiled — and vanished.
Her voice came from behind him. "That's better."
A golden blade appeared in her hand — no handle, just light forged into a perfect edge. She swung once.
He blocked, barely, his chains crossing like shields.
The impact shattered both.
Pain tore through his arms. Blood hit the ground, sizzling.
He grinned through it.
"You talk too much," he spat, and slammed his forehead into hers. The shockwave sent both of them flying backward.
They landed on opposite sides of a ruined boulevard — debris floating midair from the sheer density of their energy.
The System flickered, text struggling to keep up:
[ Power Output: 98% Capacity ]
[ Neural Strain: Critical ]
[ Body Integrity Warning: Collapse imminent. ]
The Saintess's voice echoed through the wind. "You're losing control, Cha Hae-won."
"Good," he hissed, dragging his hand across his mouth. Blood streaked his chin. "Then I'll fight you before I lose everything."
He raised both hands.
The chains ignited — white and black flames meeting, burning hotter than plasma.
Then they struck again, the world folding around the collision.
For every hit she landed, he landed two.
For every time she shattered a chain, another took its place.
And every impact — every exchange — burned through his life force, his memories, his sanity. He was burning everything, gambling it all, for one impossible victory.
Until his knees buckled.
The last hit — her palm, glowing gold, slammed into his chest — sent him through three concrete pillars.
He hit the ground hard, coughing up blood. The chains around him spasmed, flickered, and then went still.
[ Warning: Modifier "Harvester of Death" entering dormant state. ]
[ Cause: System Overload. User Unconscious. ]
Arin screamed his name — but the sound drowned beneath the Saintess's approach.
Her shadow fell over him.
"Fitting," she said quietly. "You harvest death, but you can't bear its weight."
Her blade lifted.
And that was when the others arrived.
Do-hyun's axe split the air with a roar, knocking her back. Ji-won's healing aura erupted like a star, stabilizing Hae-won's pulse.
And from the rooftops above, Seong-wu dropped down in a flash of golden light, sword drawn.
The Saintess blinked, surprised — three simultaneous attacks converging on her.
The clash that followed shattered what was left of Seoul's night sky.
⸻
When the light cleared, Hae-won was still unconscious.
The Saintess had vanished — her form retreating into the cracks of the collapsing illusion.
Arin knelt beside him, brushing blood off his cheek, voice trembling.
"You idiot," she whispered. "You're supposed to be the one who doesn't die anymore."
But Hae-won didn't move.
And for the first time since the Tower fell, the chains around him didn't stir.
The Harvester of Death had fallen silent.
There was no light.
Only the hum.
Not sound, not air — a vibration that started in his chest and spread outward, like someone plucking a string inside his bones.
Hae-won tried to breathe, but the air here wasn't air. It was memory, thick and metallic, sliding into his lungs with every inhale.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: User Consciousness Disconnected from Physical Vessel. ]
[ Running Process — Ledger Synchronization. ]
[ Harvester Modifier Active. Commencing Transfer Protocol. ]
"…Transfer what?" His voice echoed like stone breaking.
The answer came not as text, but as sensation — weight.
Something pressed against him from all sides, thousands of tiny threads weaving around his limbs. Each one carried warmth, then cold, then pain.
Faces began to flicker through them.
Men. Women. Monsters. Players.
Every single one he had killed.
Their deaths hung from him like ornaments.
[ Harvester of Death: Trait Definition ]
– Each regression will demand a harvest equal to the lives taken in the previous cycle.
– Deaths you cause are recorded.
– Upon each regression, the Ledger requires payment: the return of their pain through you.
– Refusal results in memory degradation or modifier corruption.
The hum deepened until it became a heartbeat — not his, but the Tower's.
In the dark, a shape formed: an immense set of scales, balanced on a floor of shifting red dust.
On one plate lay his chains — cracked, scorched, twitching faintly.
On the other — a pile of broken faces. Not corpses. Memories.
All staring at him.
A voice that was not human murmured,
"You write. You erase. You harvest. You repeat. Balance must be restored."
Hae-won clenched his fists. "Balance? I killed to survive your system."
"And yet you return every time.
You think regression is a gift, not realizing each loop fattens the debt you owe."
The chains around him stirred weakly, reacting to his pulse.
He looked down at his hands — and saw black marks creeping up his veins, curling like calligraphy.
Every mark had a name.
Dozens. Hundreds. Thousands.
Each one a memory of a death.
Each one a weight he had carried so long he'd stopped noticing.
He fell to one knee. "So that's it… every time I restart—every time I try to fix something—"
"You are charged again."
"The Harvester pays by living every death he caused."
"Regression is not forgiveness. It is the interest rate of your guilt."
The words slammed into him like physical blows.
He felt his chest constrict — every knife, every chain, every scream he had ever caused rushing back through his body.
The pain didn't come in waves. It came all at once.
He screamed until his throat tore.
Images flared across the void — the Tower collapsing, Arin's trembling hand, Do-hyun's laughter, Ji-won's quiet stare — each flash blinding, each ending with the same sound: chains snapping.
[ Regression Count: 504 ]
[ Payment Due: 1,217,094 Deaths ]
The numbers seared themselves into the darkness.
Hae-won staggered forward, his steps leaving trails of burning light on the red dust. "Then… take it. Take everything."
"It is not a choice," the voice replied, and the scale tipped.
A flood of red light surged toward him — liquid, alive, screaming.
Every soul he had reaped.
Every echo he had forgotten.
They didn't attack. They entered.
Through his skin, his breath, his eyes.
Until he was no longer standing, but dissolving — a shape breaking apart into fragments of others.
For a long moment, there was nothing left but the heartbeat of the Ledger.
Then, somewhere far away, another voice — smaller, human, trembling — called his name.
Arin's voice.
"Hae-won… please. Come back."
He opened his eyes.
He was lying on the cold ground of what used to be Seoul, rain falling against broken glass.
The others were there — Do-hyun's axe buried in rubble, Ji-won's hands pressed against his chest, light flickering as he poured healing into him.
Hae-won's eyes opened wide, bloodshot, the red marks still faintly glowing beneath his skin.
Ji-won froze. "What—what happened to you?"
Hae-won turned his head slightly, his voice hoarse but steady.
"…The Ledger balanced me."
Arin knelt beside him, relief mixing with dread. "You're alive."
He smiled weakly, the rain washing down his face like tears.
"For now. But every regression from here on… it's not free anymore."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning—" He sat up, and the chains stirred behind him, their colors darker now, threads of red light weaving between black steel.
"Every time I die…" He looked at his hands. "Someone else's death wakes up in me."
No one spoke.
Even the rain seemed to pause.
And somewhere high above, invisible to them, the System flickered one final message before fading:
[ Regression Mechanic: Updated. ]
[ Cost per Cycle: Souls Collected = Regression Debt. ]
[ Modifier Harvester of Death: Fully Integrated. ]
[ The rewrite begins anew. ]
⸻